Courtney Parker
Courtney gazed into her vanity mirror, blinking her long dark eyelashes at her reflection while tilting her head up and side to side to check if any mascara was out of place. She silently put her mascara into her large leather purse, which was sitting on the marble vanity counter. She then twisted open a jar of rouge, patted the brush against the rosy powder, and swept the brush along the apples of her cheeks. Courtney placed her rouge into her purse as well.
Last of all, Courtney pursed her lips in the mirror and applied her favorite dark red lipstick. She replaced the cap on the lipstick and stood up, grabbing her purse and shoving more cosmetics inside. Once she had collected all her beauty supplies, Courtney crossed the bedroom to the painting of an ocean which hung on the wall. She removed the canvas from its nail and set it on the floor, propped against the wall. Behind the painting was her husband's metal safe in the wall.
Courtney quickly spun the dial around until the lock clicked and the heavy metal door swung open. She knew the safe's combination by heart. After all, she had been married to Richard Ellewood, an extremely wealthy shopkeeper, for nearly six years. She reached her left hand into the safe and grabbed a handful of dollar bills. She placed handful after handful of cash into her purse, but froze once the sparkle of light off her wedding ring caught her eye. Courtney immediately pulled the diamond ring off her finger and tossed it into the safe. She closed the door of the safe and replaced the painting over it.
Her white knee-length dress brushed against the back of her legs as she made her way into her kitchen for the last time. On the kitchen table was the letter that she had wrote to Richard just this morning after he had left for work, declaring that she would be leaving him. Courtney paused by the table, then picked up the letter and kissed the blank space at the top of the paper. She smirked at the sarcastic red lipstick print, and walked out of the house.
Courtney walked briskly down the sidewalk, the fast click-clacking of her heels matching her rapid heartbeat. She was finally free! She reached into her purse and withdrew a train ticket to Chicago. The train would be departing the small town in only a half hour, and Richard would be closing shop in a few hours. By the time Richard would get home and find the letter on the kitchen table in the place of his supper, Courtney would already be out of the suburbs and arriving in the big city. Walking into the train station, Courtney smiled to herself as she pictured a world in which she could make her own decisions, free from Richard's constant manipulation.
"Hello, Mrs. Ellewood," the ticket counter clerk greeted her.
Courtney inwardly winced as she heard the name 'Ellewood,' but she smiled graciously at him and held up her ticket. "Hello, Oliver," she answered, "I'm headed up to Chicago to see a friend for the weekend."
The 14-year-old boy took her ticket, nodded his head, and pointed outside. "The line headed to Chicago is on Platform Two, and it'll be departing in just a few minutes."
"Thank you," Courtney replied, and boarded the train to Chicago. She sat at the back of the nearly empty passenger car and looked out the window. Living in such a small town, everybody knew everybody, so Oliver or anybody else who saw her get on the train for Chicago is likely to tell Richard where she went. That thought made Courtney nervous, despite the fact that Chicago is a huge city and even if Richard did come looking for her, the chances of him finding her were very slim.
The train let out a long, loud whistle to announce its departure from the station. As it began to slowly start moving down the tracks, Courtney let out a long sigh of relief that she was finally leaving her hometown. But the longer she sat there, the more she began to panic about her next moves.
Sure, she had stolen a sizable amount of money (which Richard had plenty of) from the safe, but once her money ran out, she would be out of luck. The only other possessions she brought along with her were her cosmetics and a few changes of clothes that were folded up in her purse. She could always return home to Richard if she really couldn't survive on her own, but her life at home would probably be even worse off than it was in the beginning. Courtney shook her head to herself. No, returning home was not an option.
The train pulled into the station in Chicago, and Courtney finally stopped tapping her foot, which she had been doing for the entire train ride due to all her nervous energy. She exited the train, left the train station, and began walking down the busy sidewalk of Chicago. It was now dusk, as the sun was just about to set. With the remaining daylight, Courtney couldn't stop looking around at all the bustling people and cars that were heading home for the night. Yet Courtney still had no idea where she would be staying.
"Fuck," Courtney said sharply under her breath, a word that Richard usually would have slapped her for saying. It was moments like these when Courtney detested Prohibition, which had already been in place for a year, because she desperately wanted to sit and enjoy a glass of wine to help collect her thoughts. She continued walking along the sidewalk, constantly being bumped and jostled against strangers who were more accustomed to the crowdedness of the city. Her purse began to feel much too heavy, and Courtney found herself having to switch her purse from one arm to the other to avoid cutting off circulation.
"Get outta here, you drunk!" she suddenly heard a man yell. Courtney quickly looked to her left down a large alley, where she saw a muscular man shoving another man out of a doorway. From within the doorway, Courtney could hear people talking loudly and brass instruments playing jazz music over the din of the crowd. The bouncer shut the thick wooden door, leaving the man alone in the alley. His clothes were rumpled, and he drunkenly stumbled over to where his fedora had landed on the ground.
Hmm, a speakeasy, Courtney thought. Her curiosity led her into the alleyway, despite her instincts telling her to keep walking down the sidewalk to get to a hotel. Prior to Prohibition, Richard would only allow Courtney to drink alcohol during special occasions. What better way to spite him than to have a celebratory drink after leaving him? Full of newfound confidence, Courtney strode past the drunkard who was now hobbling out of the alleyway, and she knocked three times on the door.
A peephole slid open then shut as the bouncer checked that it was just another customer instead of the police. The door opened and the deafening noise from inside the speakeasy hit her like a brick wall. The bouncer held the door open and tipped his fedora at Courtney as he greeted her, "Welcome, Miss."
Courtney nodded politely in acknowledgement and hesitantly entered the speakeasy. Maybe this wasn't the best idea, she thought to herself as she looked around at the crowd. It was her first time ever being in a speakeasy. The lights were dim, but Courtney could see a jazz band playing on a short stage in the corner. In front of the band was a small group of people swing dancing to the music. A long bar was wrapped around the opposite side of the room, with bartenders behind the counter mixing and pouring drinks. The rest of the area was taken up by multiple round bar tables, which people were crowded around, talking, drinking, and listening to the music.
The bouncer cleared his throat behind her, causing Courtney to slightly jump as it broke her out of her train of thought. She instantly walked over to the bar to pretend like she knew what she was doing there. She took a seat at an empty barstool at the end of the bar, and a bartender immediately came up to her and asked, "What can I get you, ma'am?"
"Pinot grigio, please."
"We only have pinot noir."
"That's fine." The bartender poured her a glass of red wine and placed it on the bar in front of her. "Thank you," Courtney said, handing the bartender a few bills. The bartender reached under the bar to put away the money, then handed her some change. Courtney stuffed the extra cash in her purse and eagerly took her first sip of wine in a year.
Two glasses later, Courtney was still sitting at the bar, contemplating her next moves. She had already decided to walk down the road six blocks, where the bartender suggested was a decent hotel. But she had a sufficient buzz from the illegal alcohol, so she didn't want to leave the speakeasy without sobering up a little bit. This will be my last glass, Courtney inwardly decided, looking at her half-full glass of wine sitting on the bar while absentmindedly twisting a pearl bracelet round and around her wrist.
Suddenly, a handsome man silently came up to the bar and sat down to the left of Courtney, leaving one barstool in between them. The man took off his fedora and set it on the bar. "Whiskey on the rocks," the man commanded the bartender.
"Right away, Mr. Barrow," the bartender replied, beginning to make the man his drink.
Courtney was immediately intrigued by the mysterious stranger next to her. She pretended to gaze at her manicured nails, but instead peeked over at him out of the corners of her eyes. She watched him nod and raise his whiskey glass to the bartender, then take a drink of his liquor.
"What's a pretty lady like yourself doing in a place like this?"
Courtney's gaze snapped back to her fingernails, then she slowly looked over at Mr. Barrow. She was unsure if the question was addressed to her or not, because he was looking down into his whiskey instead of at her. But then he looked up at her, revealing piercing teal-green eyes. Courtney kept staring at him until he raised his eyebrows at her, still waiting for an answer.
"Why do you think?" Courtney replied, picking up her glass by the stem and gently giving the wine a swirl. She took a sip of her pinot noir without breaking eye contact with Mr. Barrow. His eyes were mesmerizing.
"I know you're here to get drunk, as is everyone else. But I'm wondering why you're at this speakeasy. You're obviously not a regular," Mr. Barrow noted.
"And what makes you think I'm not from here?" Courtney retorted, tilting her chin up defensively.
"Be honest, princess, you don't exactly look like you fit in with the types of people who frequent this speakeasy," Mr. Barrow explained, nodding his head towards the people dancing to the live band. Courtney turned around to take a look. Now that he mentioned it, Courtney definitely stuck out from the other women. The women at this speakeasy were all flappers, whom were wearing short, flashy dresses and had pin-curled pixie-cut hairdos.
Courtney ran a hand through her long, curly chestnut hair and took another sip of wine. "You may have a point, but you don't know that I'm not from around here. I could simply be exploring a new part of town," she explained with a shrug. "I'm a very adventurous person."
"Uh huh…," Mr. Barrow said unbelievingly. "And your husband has nothing to do with you being here?"
"What are you taking about?" Courtney snapped, furrowing her eyebrows. "I don't know what you're saying, I don't have a husband."
"Whoa, whoa, no need to get all defensive, princess. I just noticed your finger is all," Mr. Barrow pointed out, directly looking at her ring finger, which still had a slight imprint of a ring that has been worn for years.
Courtney glanced at her hand then took a large swig of her wine. "How observant," she said bitterly, looking straight ahead. "But what's it to you?"
"A newly single dame such as yourself most definitely sparks some interest in me," Mr. Barrow said with a grin, suggestively waggling his eyebrows at her.
"I would love to throw the rest of my pinot noir in your face right now, Mr. Barrow, but fortunately for you I care more about my wine," Courtney responded. Mr. Barrow chuckled at her sass and tossed back the rest of his whiskey, loudly setting the glass down on the bar. He looked up at the clock hanging over the bar. It was nearly 10:30pm. He grabbed his fedora and moved into the barstool in between them, closing the gap.
Courtney quickly glanced at him and then away. "I'm not interested," she spoke up, but she couldn't help but to notice the stranger's strikingly handsome features. He had a sharp jaw line, shadowed with some stubble, that led up to his black neatly-combed hair. Courtney had to admit to herself that his tailored suit, tie, and fedora added to his appeal.
"If that's what you want to tell yourself," Mr. Barrow replied. The bartender set down another whiskey on the rocks, which Mr. Barrow picked up and took a sip. He leaned towards Courtney and lowered his voice to continue, "But as much as I'd like to continue to ruffle your feathers, you need to listen up, princess. You need to stand up right now and walk out of this speakeasy. Do as I say, and you won't get hurt."
"...Don't call me princess," Courtney commanded, although it wasn't very convincing as Mr. Barrow could see her nervousness overcoming her. Her eyes were open wide in fear and she was frozen to her barstool.
"Trust me, you need to go," Mr. Barrow's voice was deathly serious, and his blue-green eyes seemed more icy and intimidating than at first. He nervously kept glancing back and forth between the clock and the door. Courtney hesitantly reached toward her purse, not removing her frightened gaze from Mr. Barrow. "Goddammit, go!"
Courtney immediately stood up and began rapidly walking towards the door, weaving between tables of people. Her head still spun from the alcohol, and her heart pounded with fear and adrenaline. She had no idea who that man was or why he threatened her like that, but maybe he was right and it was about time she go to the hotel. After all, it's not safe for a young woman like herself to be out late at night in a crowded city.
Suddenly, the rat-a-tat-tat sound of automated gunfire rang through the air. Courtney saw bullets fire through the front door and into the body of the bouncer, sending wooden splinters and blood flying through the air. Courtney's hands flew to her mouth and she let out a bloodcurdling scream. The bouncer's body crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood beginning to spread around him.
Everybody in the speakeasy flew into a panic, running and screaming and looking for cover. The front door was kicked in by six large gangsters in suits and fedoras, all holding Tommy guns. They entered the speakeasy and spread out, beginning to break furniture and assault customers and workers at random, seizing their money and valuable belongings or shooting them if they didn't comply. Courtney spun around and blindly ran through the crowd, frantically trying to get as far away from the gangsters as possible.
Suddenly, she ran into a man's hard torso, her hands on his chest. The man tightly grabbed her arms and Courtney looked up at his face in terror. It was Mr. Barrow.
"Do you trust me?" he demanded loudly so she could hear him over the din of the chaos. Courtney stared up at him, mouth slightly agape because she didn't know what to say. They stood deathly still in the bustling crowd, with random people constantly bumping into them as they stared intensely at each other.
"I-," Courtney began, but stopped. She was overwhelmed with the dangerous turn of events and doubted if she had made the right call to run away from home. She desperately wanted to get somewhere safe and know that she could survive on her own. But maybe going along with Mr. Barrow was her only choice.
"Do you trust me?" Mr. Barrow repeated even louder, giving Courtney a small shake to snap her back to reality. More gunshots fired across the room. Unable to form any words, Courtney just frantically nodded her head. "Then come with me."